


S is for Sprained Ankle

by Sid



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alphabet Soup Challenge, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1200854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sid/pseuds/Sid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The colonel moved to usher Daniel through the hall door. "Pray for us," he whispered to Sam as he slid the door shut behind them.</em> </p><p> <em>This time Sam stayed put in her chair while she contemplated just what sort of painkiller Janet might have given her, that would confuse her into thinking her life had turned into something strongly resembling a French farce.</em></p><p> </p><p>My <a href="http://fignewton.dreamwidth.org/225260.html">On-World Alphabet Soup</a> contribution.  All the action takes place at Sam's house.  Watch Season 5's <em>Ascension</em> to refresh your memory of the layout, or just take a peek at this dandy <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B6znjzOv0gPiLXV6ZnVXYmoxWTQ/edit">floorplan</a> a Stargate fan produced!  (There will be a test later...)</p><p>Thank you to <span class="ljuser"></span><a href="http://ivorygates.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://ivorygates.dreamwidth.org/"></a><b>ivorygates</b> for her beta and her sharp eye for architectural details.  :-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	S is for Sprained Ankle

"Hey, isn't that Daniel's car?" Sam asked.

The colonel pulled up in front of her house, set his parking brake and turned off the ignition. "Is it?" He climbed out and walked around the front of the truck.

Sam hurried to open the passenger door and swing her legs out. It was better to establish right away that she wasn't helpless. But the cane Janet had given her felt awkward, and she was actually glad for the helping hand as she climbed down from the truck. When the colonel's hand continued to hover at her elbow, however, she said, "Thanks, sir; I've got it now." The hand went away, but he continued to hover, in that overly casual way that wouldn't fool a two-year-old.

When the hand returned as she reached the foot of the porch steps, she gave into the inevitable and accepted his help to her front door. The colonel reached past her and rang the doorbell.

Sam looked at him. "Definitely Daniel's car."

He just smiled. "Should be open."

Sam turned the knob and swung the door inwards, nearly hitting Daniel with it. "Oh, sorry!" She stepped into the house. "Oh, good, you turned the a/c on." She wiped away a bead of sweat from her temple.

"Yeah, sorry," the colonel said. "Gotta get the truck fixed one of these days." He crowded into the hallway behind her. "Daniel? Want to give us enough room that I can shut the door and stop air conditioning the neighborhood?"

Daniel stepped back a scant foot.

"Sheesh," the colonel muttered. "Excuse me, Carter."

Sam moved enough so that the door could be shut. "Daniel?"

Daniel appeared to be telegraphing a message to the colonel with his eyebrows. After years of trying, Sam had stopped attempting to intercept and decipher those messages. She sniffed the air. "What's that I _smell_?"

Daniel gave her a sudden smile of blinding charm. "Oh, that's Teal'c, in the kitchen."

"This I _have_ to see." The colonel squeezed past them both.

"Come sit down," Daniel urged. "How are you feeling? How's the ankle? You must be tired. And hot. Jack really does need to get the air in his truck taken care of." All the while he was inexorably moving them into the office she'd set up in the front room and guiding her into a chair.

"Daniel."

"You just rest there." Daniel patted her shoulder. He jerked a thumb toward the doorway. "I'll just…"

"Daniel!"

But he was already out in the hallway, where he turned to give her another bright, false smile before sliding the pocket door closed.

Sam stared open-mouthed at the door for a few moments, then set her jaw. She got up from her chair, turned away, and hobbled toward the entrance into the dining room, where there was a second pocket door. Silently easing it part-way open, she moved into the dining room, limping straight ahead toward the living room. She didn't even make it halfway.

Through the archway on her right she could see down the hall to the kitchen, where the colonel stood at the counter, his back to her. Until he turned around and started back to the front room. Their eyes met. Sam froze like a deer caught in the headlights. The colonel darted in from the hallway and turned her around. "Now, Carter, you should be resting. Not traipsing around."

Sam tried to resist their progress back into the office, but when you couldn't plant both of your feet and had a large and determined man, who you were accustomed to obeying, who had other ideas… In no time she was back in the chair she'd just left. "Sir, I'd really like to put my feet up. I'd be much more comfortable in the living…"

The colonel wheeled her desk chair over and carefully lifted her injured foot up onto it. "How's that?"

The foot immediately started to throb, but Sam wasn't about to admit it. She gritted her teeth. "I'd really be much more comfortable…"

The hallway pocket door opened and Daniel slid into the room, shutting it behind him with a furtive glance down the hall toward the kitchen. "Hey, Sam. How's the foot?"

"The foot?" Sam took a deep breath. "The foot is going to kick somebody's butt if you guys don't tell me what's going on."

The colonel tutted disapprovingly. "No need to get snippy, Major. Teal'c's cooking. That's all. I'll go check in on him, shall I?" He exited through the door Daniel had just entered, giving Daniel what was undoubtedly a meaningful look on his way past.

Sam glared at the closed door, then shifted the glare to Daniel, who was folding and unfolding his arms while appearing fascinated by her bookshelves. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses a few times before finally looking in her direction. "So."

"So what’s Teal'c cooking, and how big of a disaster area is my kitchen?"

"Oh, we'll clean it up," Daniel said hastily. He tried out another smile on her. It faded quickly as she continued to glare. "He's making soup."

"It's 86 degrees out!"

"Well. But." Daniel waved a hand at her. "It seemed appropriate."

"I am not sick! I have a sprained ankle. I'm not an invalid, and I don't need chicken soup!"

"If only."

She hadn't noticed the colonel coming back in via the dining room. Startled, she jumped a little, jarring her ankle. "Ow! What?"

"What?" He slid the door shut.

"'If only' what?"

His face was a strange mixture of concern for her pain and the bland look that meant he was hiding something. "Nothing. You okay?"

"I'm _fine_."

"Okay. Good. Excellent. Oh, Daniel."

Daniel's expression was wary. "Yes."

"It's time."

Daniel closed his eyes briefly. "Oh, hooray."

The colonel moved to usher Daniel through the hall door. "Pray for us," he whispered to Sam as he slid the door shut behind them.

This time Sam stayed put in her chair while she contemplated just what sort of painkiller Janet might have given her, that would confuse her into thinking her life had turned into something strongly resembling a French farce.

The colonel returned. The look on his face was one Sam couldn't remember ever having seen before. "Definitely not chicken soup."

Daniel was right behind him, gulping from a tall glass of water. He closed the door. "Jaffa soup," he gasped.

"Gimme that." The colonel took the glass and drank.

"Smells weird, looks disgusting, tastes…" Daniel shuddered.

"Do you think he could tell we hated it?" the colonel asked.

"I really don't think we were very successful at hiding it, Jack."

Sam was listening to the unmistakable sound of her garbage disposal unit. "Yeah, he knows." The sound stopped. Footsteps approached. The colonel thrust the empty water glass at Daniel and struck a nonchalant pose.

The pocket door slid open. Teal'c stood in the hallway looking at them.

"Hi, Teal'c," Sam said, smiling in what she hoped was a kindly fashion.

Teal'c entered the room and stood at attention before her, hands clasped behind his back. "Major Carter, I regret to inform you that I have failed in my attempt to create a healthful meal for you to enjoy. I am deeply chagrined."

"Oh, hey," Sam said. "It's okay, Teal'c. I couldn't begin to tell you how many meals I've tried to prepare that have ended up going down that disposal. I really appreciate the fact that you made the effort, honestly. Please don't feel bad about it, okay? Promise me?"

Teal'c looked stoic. His head dipped an inch in acknowledgment.

The colonel went over to place a hand on Teal'c's shoulder in manly commiseration. "I think what Teal'c is trying to say here, Carter…" He waved a hand to encompass himself and Daniel. "What we're _all_ trying to say here, is…"

"What Jack's trying to say, Sam," Daniel said, bending down over her solicitously and placing a hand gently on her arm, "is: Where do you keep your takeout menus?"

Sam burst into laughter.

The colonel pointed a finger in the air. "Yes, that's it. In a nutshell."

"Middle drawer next to the sink," she managed to say.

"I am purchasing."

"Buying, Teal'c. You're _buying_." Teal'c and the colonel left the room.

Daniel rubbed his hands together. "Let's get you more comfortable in the other room."

Still laughing, Sam just nodded, and allowed herself to be helped up from the chair. She was clearly going to spend the next few days being hovered over, cosseted, and pampered, so she might as well just give in now.

Who knew a sprained ankle could be so entertaining?


End file.
